Bullet
by totally-absurd
Summary: 'Well,' Daiki thought studying the gun pointed at his head with bemusement. 'Guess, that would be it, huh' Or the Crime AU that sneaked up on me.
1. Careful what you wish for

_Not sure where it came from (nothing new here really). The crime AU with Kise as spoiled a mafia prince and Aomine as a homeless delinquent. We'll se how it works out. Cross posted on ao3_

* * *

'Well,' Daiki thought studying the gun pointed at his head with bemusement. 'Guess, that would be it, huh?'

It wasn't such a bad way to go, all things considered. It certainly beat wasting away from starvation or catching some unnamable disease from the other street rats that he lived amongst. And he would go with the bang, like he always wanted to, even if it was not the bang he originally had in mind.

Maybe the bullet will even smash his brain fast enough for him not to feel any pain.

Futile hope, that one.

"So," a voice drawled penetrating his existential inner monologue.

Daiki reluctantly raised his gaze to the man holding his death by the grip. His executor looked impeccable from the top of his green hair – which would have been hilarious if Daiki wasn't the one at the wrong end of the gun – to the tips of his polished shoes. He was standing tall, looking down at Daiki's form sprawled on the concrete floor of the warehouse with his mouth curled in disdain. Or maybe he wasn't looking, since it was hard to tell with rectangular glasses perched on his nose reflecting the sparse light from the windows.

"So?" Daiki parroted knowing full well that his loose tongue might just hasten his imminent demise. Better sooner than later anyway.

The man's glasses glinted maliciously.

"I asked you. Why did you think it would be a good idea to go stealing on this territory and why on earth did you think that it would be a good idea to show resistance when you were ordered to scram?"

Yeah, well, the latter was not one of his brightest moments. No use lamenting it now.

"Look, dude, I don't know shit 'bout territories and your guys didn't explain shit. No one has the right to order me around. At last not without paying for it with money or their teeth."

'Say you're sorry and promise to never do it again' scenario never did work for Daiki.

There was a distinctive sound of the gun safety clicking off and Daiki closed his eyes preparing for the inevitable.

"Shintarou."

It was said quietly with no emotion coloring the single word, but the lack of decibels did not make the voice any less commanding. The person speaking expected to be heard and obeyed regardless of the circumstances.

"Akashi, I will be finished here shortly," the guy, whose name was apparently Shintarou, answered without turning. But instead of the footsteps retreating and leaving Shintarou to finish his business, it sounded like the mysterious Akashi was approaching them. The man with the gun frowned, seeming to notice that as well.

"Akashi?"

The person that emerged from behind Shintarou's back was not at all what Daiki would have expected judging by the voice alone.

Akashi was short, at last eight inches shorter than the man who was obviously under his command. His head, full of blazing blood red hair, was held up haughtily, but somehow, instead of making him look like a stuck up kid, it brought something almost regal to his stance.

But even more terrifying than his imposing presence were the heterochromatic eyes that gazed at Daiki with the cold contemplation. One crimson red to match the hair and the other topaz yellow only lacking a vertical pupil to make it look like that of a cat. Daiki felt the chill run down his spine that even the gun hasn't been able to elicit.

Akashi shifted his eyes to his subordinate.

"So this is the kid who managed to take out five of your men before you were able to detain him?"

Daiki bristled.

He was not a kid.

Though, just as quickly as it came, his scowl was replaced with the smug smirk, because Mr. Green bristled as well, catching the obvious insult in his superior words. Visibly reigning in a more scathing retort, Shintarou pursed his lips and nodded.

Akashi's gaze returned to Daiki.

"What is your name?"

Now, Daiki was contemplating a quip, but decided that he had already filled his quota of bad decisions for one day.

"Aomine Daiki."

"Dai-ki," Akashi said as if testing the name on his tongue, to see if he liked the sound of it. "Hm, I believe I heard you saying that a sufficient payment would be the key to your obedience, is that right?"

That was not exactly what Daiki said, but while he was not known for his intellectual prowess, he was not fool enough not to see a beneficial offer when he was given one.

The outraged look on his almost-executor's face was a nice bonus as well.

"It might be."

A ghost of a smirk flitted over Akashi's lips. Apparently that was a good answer.

"Well, Daiki. As you've probably already gathered, I have an offer for you. A job offer."

"And what would it consist of?" Daiki asked cautiously matching the tone of his possible employer, the guy obviously didn't run a flower shop chain and it always paid to be careful when someone offered you money.

The look he got in return was asking if he really thought he had a choice in the matter.

One thing that living on the streets taught Daiki was that any judgment that might come later was not worth a bother if your stomach was constricting with pain from the sheer emptiness. But there were lines, though somewhat blurry ones, which he would not cross, even under the barrel of the gun.

Akashi seemed to understand that, because after a moment of silence he elaborated.

"You see," he said with the put upon sigh. "I need a guard for something really precious to me and you seem to fit the requirements for the job. You would be of course paid very generously and will have to live in the manor with the rest of the family."

Yep, definitely not a flower shop.

But that was vague as far as explanations went. The guy was obviously omitting something and Daiki didn't miss the grimace that passed over the green haired man's face. But on the other hand he was offered two things that he didn't remember ever having in affluence: money and the roof over his head.

It was probably dangerous, had to be, but then Daiki wasn't exactly living in a safe environment.

Pros were so far overweighting the cons.

And really, it can't be much worse than what he had now, he thought giving his affirmative answer.

He would regret that thought later.

➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷

Kise Ryouta would not call himself spoiled.

Privileged, yes. That would be the word he would use.

Being the youngest son, he was always doted upon and in the family that had never wanted for anything that meant he was spoiled rotten by all the things money could buy.

And as far as Ryouta was concerned, money could buy anything.

Or anything except for freedom he wanted so much.

His older brother, who was now running the family with an iron fist and hawk-like eyes, apparently didn't consider his desire to go out and have fun a basic necessity, and with the death of their parents and the threat hanging over their own heads only the basics were allowed. Apparently.

The problem with that arrangement was that Ryouta was slowly starting to climb the walls from the sheer boredom.

He even let Momo-cchi paint his nails pink, which he was now seriously regretting because he had no idea how to take the blasted paint off and the hellish woman was gone on assignment and not due to return any time soon.

His next logical step would be to start banging his head on the wall.

Or… he paused just now coming to the realization that he was very much alone.

Well, no, not alone in the strictest of sense, but in all sense that pertained to his current problem.

Akashi was out, taking his loyal dog Midorima with him.

Murasakibara was probably in the kitchen munching away on the never ending supply of snacks and annoying the cook with his unhealthy eating habits.

The only person who might pose a problem was Kuroko-cchi, because while he was nowhere to be seen, that did not mean that he was not around.

But maybe, just maybe, the luck would be on Ryouta's side today and there will be no one to stop him from walking out of that blasted door.

He should have known that he already exhausted his luck limit for the lifetime the moment he was born.

Just as he was about to step out on the porch, a sleek black car pulled into the driveway.

Unfortunately, Ryouta knew exactly who that car belonged to. And unfortunately for Ryouta it was the last person that would ever let him leave the house.

His hand squeezed the door handle in frustration.

Just as the car came to a stop, Ryouta schooled his features back into the look of boredom and forced his body to relax as much as possible. Judging by the narrow eyed look his brother sent him as he got out of the car, Ryouta's last-ditch attempt at nonchalance was not all that successful. His attention was diverted however, when the next person to step onto the driveway was not Midorima he was expecting to see.

A dark skinned young man, probably somewhere around Ryouta's age, was looking at the house with astounded midnight blue eyes, his lips parted a little in awe.

Ryouta wrinkled his nose. The newcomer's clothes were shabby and dirty. He could only imagine the smell, but rather wouldn't.

"Akashi-cchi," he drawled still grimacing in disgust. "I thought you promised not to bring work home."

He felt the young man's eyes snap in his direction, but didn't pay him any attention.

Akashi took a step forward.

"Ryouta, I know that you don't like being coped up in the house all the time," he said ignoring Ryouta's jab in the dark skinned man's direction.

Oh, shit. Not the lecture, please.

His desire to protest must have been written on his face, because before Ryouta could even open his mouth, Akashi's hand rose in a halting gesture.

"I found the solution to that problem. You can now go wherever you like, within reason of course, but you must always have someone to escort you."

"But…"

"Please meet your new bodyguard. This is Aomine Daiki."

Ryouta's mouth fell open, eyes darting to the equally shocked face of his would-be bodyguard.

Careful what you wish for, was it?


	2. Too bright to be real

Daiki's lack of language skills was not at all surprising, considering the only education he ever received was given at the orphanage school that had more kids than breathing room and only one teacher for all subjects.

Then again, maybe it was him leaving said orphanage at the age of eleven that had more contribution to the abysmal state of his education.

Whatever the reason, he still had enough knowledge to say that when referring to a person one was supposed to say 'someone', not 'something'.

The fact that that someone was currently regarding him with the shocked disgust painted all over his pretty doll-like face only added more salt to the already smarting injury.

It's not that such looks were something unusual. There were always people who viewed lack of money as some sort of deficiency that made those not born with the silver spoon in their mouths somehow inferior. They turned their faces and wrinkled their noses in disgust as if his poverty was something dirty, something contagious. And by gods, he should be used to it by now, but for some unfathomable reason it still hurt every single fucking time.

The young man on the porch was just like any other stuck up asshole that Daiki encountered before. The only thing making him different was that Daiki would be supposedly glued to his side for the unforeseeable period of time and thus forced to endure the snobbish behavior on daily basis.

But it was worth it.

The money and the opportunity to finally get out of the gutter were worth having to spend his day with an annoying brat that equaled him to the dirt on the soles of his shoes. And as soon as Daiki was finished with this job, he would be free to do what he wanted and go wherever he wanted to.

He just needed to be patient for a while. As patient as he can be.

Which was unfortunately not much.

"You don't mean to tell me, that in order to get out of this prison," the young man named Ryouta waved his pale long-fingered hand in the direction of the house. "I have to take this with me?" The hand then pointed accusingly at Daiki, marking him the source of all the misfortune in its owner's life.

"Ryouta," Akashi's voice wasn't even exasperated. "You know the situation perfectly well."

Which was returning Daiki to his main sore point at the moment – he didn't.

Ryouta huffed an annoyed breath, tossing his sleek blond hair away from his face and gave Daiki the answer he was looking for.

Or at last the watered down and heavily sarcastic version of it.

"Yes, yes. There's a rebellion brewing in our perfect little empire and you don't want to negotiate the price of my fingers if they'll decide to use me, or rather parts of me, as a bargaining chip. So I need to have a bodyguard," he said as if reciting something that had been repeated to him countless times, the "even though I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself" in the last sentence unsaid, but glaringly obvious. "Fine. What I don't understand is why him? Where did you even dig him out from?"

The last question was once again filled with repugnance for the sole thought of having someone like Daiki come near his majestic self and Daiki, who was hanging by the last thread of his patience for the entirety of the conversation, finally exploded.

"I'm still here, if you haven't noticed! Maybe it's a bit difficult to comprehend with all that bleach seeping into your brain, but living on the streets doesn't turn people into animals, I can still understand you and talk perfectly well."

The blond man looked at him as if he grew a second head.

"Well, I don't want to talk to you," he said finally turning his gaze in Daiki's direction. "You're not the one making decisions here and…"

"Ryouta, that's enough," Akashi's voice interrupted before the argument could escalate. "My decision is final."

Ryouta's mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

"Fine!" He repeated, his slanted eyes shooting daggers in Daiki's direction. "But if he even thinks of coming near me before taking a shower and changing into something clean, I will run away."

He punctuated the last statement with the stomp of his foot like a capricious five year old and then stormed into the house slamming the heavy ornate door with the surprising force.

Daiki honestly didn't know if he should laugh or slit his wrists.

He turned to Akashi, ready to face the reprimand for badmouthing his... What was that guy anyway?

But instead of the cold gaze he got so used to for the last couple of hours he found his new boss almost... smiling?

Well, no. It wasn't a smile in any conventional sort of way. His face was still a mask of the cold indifference, mouth set into the straight line, but there, in the corners of his eyes, small crinkles softened the whole picture into what was probably the most genuine version of a smile Daiki would ever see on that regal face.

It was gone as soon as Akashi noticed Daiki looking is his direction.

"As you would have already known, were we allowed to make proper introductions, this was Kise Ryouta, my younger brother. You would be in charge of his safety for the foreseeable future," he said, eyes flickering briefly to the closed door.

Daiki bit back a sigh. Should he point out that Akashi's very precious 'something' had quite the disagreeable attitude and would have been nice to be warned about it in advance? Will that even change anything?

As always, his mouth made the decision for him.

"Should've said you needed a babysitter," he grumbled not quite looking into Akashi's eyes.

Now this time the red haired man's lips curled into something that was probably supposed to be a smile, but the shiver of dread that run up Daiki's spine was not quite in agreement with that description.

"Ryouta is indeed a handful, but I am sure you will find a way to deal. After all your objective is to keep him safe, not befriend him."

Right. Not a reprimand, but a reminder not to forget his place. Twice in ten minutes now. At last Akashi was somewhat nice about it.

Daiki nodded silently, barely holding himself back from blurting out the infinite array of questions running through his head.

Who was rebelling against Akashi? Why did the brother he was so intent on protecting have a different last name? Why was Daiki chosen to protect said brother instead of one of Akashi's trusted, trained men?

But the most important question, the one that probably not even Akashi would be able to answer for him was: what exactly had Daiki gotten himself into?

➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷➶⁀➷‿➶⁀➷

The length of Ryouta's room from the door to the scenic window was exactly ten paces if one did not take into account the space occupied by the flower pots.

But then if he made his strides longer it would be nine.

Nine steps to the window, turn around, nine steps back. A perfect pattern to wear a hole in the carpet or annoy the person residing on the floor below you to death. Right now though Ryouta didn't give to shits about the carpet or anyone he might have disturbed with his rhythmical pacing.

Right now he was dearly tempted to check if the steam was actually billowing out of his ears for all the fury boiling inside of him.

It was not enough to be locked in like some criminal on the house arrest. Now he had to drag that rude unwashed cretin everywhere with him. Ryouta's leg flew up kicking the empty air, wishing there was actually something to make that satisfying crush, to break the silence and the tension permeating the room.

"You can always kick the bed, though it might be a little painful," the voice commented monotonously from behind him and Ryouta's heart did a pirouette worthy of the best circus artists.

"Kuroko-cchi!" he exclaimed turning around to see the man standing in his doorway and theatrically flattening one palm to the left side of his chest. "You are trying to send me into a cardiac arrest. You know Akashi-cchi won't like it if you'll actually manage to kill me after all the precautions he took to keep me safe."

Kuroko's eyebrows twitched as if trying to quirk, but, probably by the force of habit, stayed in place. He stood unmoving and stoic as ever, one hand resting on the door handle and hair sparkling in the sun like a spring water. Ryouta always thought that if Kuroko was a girl he would look like a forest nymph with his aquamarine hair and eyes to match, with that translucently pale skin. He would never say it to the man himself though, he still valued his life after all.

"You're too young to have a heart failure, Kise-kun."

"I'll have you know that 'as many as four to ten percent of all heart attacks occur before age 45, and most of these strike men'," Ryouta recited, voice bursting with fake importance and indignation.

Kuroko gave a mighty sigh of a man resigned to the fate of constantly being surrounded by idiots.

"Midorima-kun would be very annoyed when he finds out you were pilfering his medical journals again."

Ryouta sniffed and turned his nose slightly up.

"I wasn't pilfering them. He left them in the library and I was bored."

"Oh, so you thought that dissection and heart diseases would be good entertainment?"

Ryouta groaned, burying his hands in his hair.

"Kuroko-cchi," he wined, making Kuroko's face scrunch up in a pained grimace at the high-pitched sound. "Did you come here just to bully me?"

"No. Akashi-san wants to see you. He's in the library," the blue haired man informed him.

Ryouta felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

"Oh," he drawled in the most condescending manner he could master. "I hope he's finished with his foundling, I'm not sure I can stand to be in the same room with him before he got a proper wash up."

The temperature of Kuroko's icy blue gaze suddenly dropped a few degrees.

"Aomine-kun has been escorted to the room he will be occupying," somehow the blue haired man had managed to make his toneless voice even more flat, while saying it. "You should go. Kise-san. You know Akashi-san doesn't like to wait."

And just as suddenly as he came, Kuroko disappeared, leaving Ryouta confused as to the reasons for the sudden change in his demeanor.

Out of everyone Ryouta knew Kuroko Tetsuya was the man most particular about the use of honorifics. Even the ever so stiff Midorima usually left them off, considering most people not worth the honor. Kuroko never addressed anyone without adding at last the perfunctory "-san" at the end. He never misspoke, using the suffix he didn't intend to, and Ryouta became Kise-san only when he did something that went against Kuroko's principles.

Only right now he had no idea what it could possibly be.

* * *

He found Akashi in the library – just like he was told he would – his nose buried in some probably not that important papers. Akashi never needed much time scan over the documents, having a keen eye for significant parts and filtering out all the unnecessary drivel. He only pretended to be occupied by the paperwork when he wanted the person to think he was not paying attention while watching their every move.

Ryouta was not one the people still fooled by that act, though he usually pretended to be.

"Onii-san?" he called, after taking a few steps into the room and closing the door. That form of address was something he used only when they were alone, such familiarities did not inspire deference in people who were essentially trained killers.

Akashi lowered the papers and gestured for Ryouta to sit.

"So, are you going to tell me since when do you pick your men from the trashcans?" he said before Akashi could offer anything. This was again something he was only allowed to do in private, being a brother did not exempt him from subordination.

"You know the problems we are facing right now. And you know that the only people I find capable of protecting you, could not be spared at the moment."

"And you believe this… foundling of yours to be capable?" Ryouta asked coating every word with the heavy layer of skepticism.

"He took out five of our men, before Shintarou was able to subdue him. With the use of the gun." Akashi informed him, the flatness of his voice nearly rivaling Kuroko's.

Ryouta was grudgingly impressed and it took all of his well-honed restraint to not let it show on his face.

"You know I can do that without even breaking a sweat. But you still think that I can't stand up for myself," he countered, the bitterness not quite absent from his voice. Years of training, bruises and sweat and he was still considered a damsel in need of protection. Thanks, ever so much.

"Ryouta," the tone, with which his name was spoken, made Ryouta lift his eyes from the table he was up to that moment studying intently, and look his brother in the eyes. "We had this discussion countless times. I know you are strong, but you are also too important to be left without some added protection. Someone needs to watch your back and I find Aomine Daiki capable of being that someone," he said with finality.

Ryouta really wanted to object. His mouth was full of protests and questions: 'Why am I always being treated like a kid?' 'Why couldn't you find someone nicer?' 'Why do you believe in a stranger you picked off the street more than you believe in your own brother?' They seemed like important questions while he was thinking about them, but formulating into actual sentences turned those questions into petty complaints, not worth brining up in such a serious conversation.

So he sealed his lips and swallowed all of those protests down, grimacing as if the bitter aftertaste in his mouth was real instead of imaginary.

And if Akashi thought his smile was a bit too bright to be real, he didn't say anything.


End file.
